


It's All Too Much

by Swimfasteatass



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Its shit, Kidnapping, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Self-Pity, Sensory Overload, Tony Angst, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Torture, Whump, concussion, my first fanfiction, things arent lookin so good for spider boy huh, tony is havin a really rough time with all this, yeet lets go
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-25
Updated: 2018-09-13
Packaged: 2019-07-02 06:31:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15790920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Swimfasteatass/pseuds/Swimfasteatass
Summary: Peter was never really one who put himself first. It's one of his biggest weaknesses. Hell, it's a weakness most heroes share. So it was no surprise when he decided that feeling sick to his stomach wasn't more important than scaling the side of the building to potentially save a life.He had no clue the only one in danger was him.





	1. Bait

**Author's Note:**

> Yikes. This is the first fanfiction I've made in quite literally 5 years. Here goes nothing.

He should’ve stayed home, he knew that from the moment he opened his eyes. Today was going to be one of those days. One of those days where his enhanced senses decided it’d be great to screw him over; instead of being dialed to 11 they cranked themselves all the way up to a solid 21. He wasn't even awake for five seconds when he noticed a throbbing headache. Light blinded him, and he was overwhelmed with the various sounds of the city. Cars honking, sirens, people yelling. In other words, it sucked.

Now, instead of being miserable in a nice comfy bed, he was miserable in a plastic chair. All because his stubborn ass would rather swallow titanium nails than worry his aunt. So here he was, in the small classroom, cradling his head in his hands with his eyes squeezed shut.

“Peter?”

Peter flinched at the sound of Ned’s voice. He pried his hands away from his eyes to look at his worried friend. “Hm?”

“You look like crap,” Ned said bluntly. Through the squinting, Peter could see his best friend’s concerned expression. “Did something happen last night when you were… you know, ‘running errands?’“

“No,” he mumbled. “My senses are just… shit.”

Ned nodded in understanding, but the look of concern didn’t drop. “Headache?”

“More or less.” The more he talked the more the shake in his voice was evident. He couldn’t really help it; School was loud, and bright, and too much even when his senses weren’t skyrocketing.

“You should go home. Want me to text May for you? Or bring you to the nurse?”

He seemed to stiffen a bit at the mention of telling May. “No, dude. She’s gonna get worried. She’s worried enough with the whole… you know. Plus, I’m fine.”

“You’re clearly not fine. C’mon, what about… What if we told Tony? He could come pick you up.” Ned lowered his voice at the mention of the billionaire.

“No, noo. No. Not today. Meetings. Look,” He sat up straight, trying to put on his best ‘I’m fine’ act. It wasn’t the most convincing, but it was enough to do the trick. “I’m good. I can handle going through the whole day. And if I can’t I’ll go home. Deal?”

Ned looked him up and down, before sighing in defeat. “Deal.”

Hours passed, classes went by, and his condition had only gotten worse. He felt disgustingly sick. His legs felt like jello. He found out that his balance wasn’t doing it’s best when Ned’s hand found its way to his shoulder to keep him up straight. It was at that point that he convinced Peter it was time to go home.

 

After gathering his things, he quickly found out that walking down the sidewalk of a busy New York street was just as bad, if not worse, as sitting in a cafeteria full of yelling high schoolers. When the nurse had cleared him to go, he decided that maybe the fresh air would help push the nausea down. He was right, to an extent. The nausea was more of a dull thought at the back of his head, but it wasn’t just because of the fresh air. It was more-so the fact that Peter was too preoccupied with the harsh sunlight and the screaming sirens in the distance than the nausea bubbling up in his stomach.

Of course, things didn’t get easier from there. The farther he walked, the louder the sounds of sirens got. He had the urge to flat out cover his ears and sprint the rest of the way home. Instead, he looked up ahead to see exactly what the commotion was. He could see the blue and red flashing lights. They were coming from the three cop cars parked in front of a tall building. Frowning, he picked up his pace, craning his neck to try to get a better look. Realizing someone could be in danger, he swallowed down some of the nausea. He could see them, five cops, heads tilted upwards to look at the top of the building. Peter had no damn clue what they were looking at, he couldn’t see anything from his position. He tried listening in, but the wailing of the sirens was thundering over any other sounds. If he wanted to figure out what was going on, he’d have to find out himself. He threw any regard he had for his well being to the side and took off to a nearby alley.

The teenager was already more than halfway up the side of the building when Karen alerted him that he might want to take a break.  
“I got this, I got this. Just a headache.” The best thing about being in his suit is it limited and filtered through the input coming from around him. Peter wasn’t as overwhelmed as before, but his head was still pounding and he was still having an issue focusing. Before Karen could voice her concern again, he asked her to run an x-ray and infrared scan to see exactly what was waiting for him at the top of the building.  
“There seems to be one person on the top of the building.”

“One person? I was expecting like, a group. A group of baddies. Can you tell they have weapons?” He asked as he finally reached the top, quietly bringing himself over the ledge. He took a second to steady himself, eventually crouching to reduce the chances of being seen.

“From what I can tell, they have possession of a firearm. Are you sure you want to continue? It might be best if you take a second to relax, Peter. My readings are showing that you’re not feeling well right now. I can alert Tony-”

“Karen, I told you, I got this.” He whispered, making his way towards the guy. He could see him now, standing impossibly still, looking down at the scene below him, The sirens were still wailing, the red and blue flashing from below. He wasn’t able to get any facial details,there was a blank white mask keeping his identity secret. A duffle bag sat next to him. Peter was about to ask Karen what she thought was in the duffle bag before a deep, husky voice interrupted his thoughts.

“You know,” the man started, still not facing Peter. “I was expecting something more along the lines of Iron Man, but we can work with this.” The teenager had no clue how he’d given his position away, but he assumed it was something to do with the shitty balance he had going on right now. Maybe he should’ve listened to Karen. He stood up, looking at the man who was now facing him.

“Sorry to disappoint.” Peter crossed his arms. “So what’s the plan, Slenderman? Stolen money? Drugs? Let’s get this over with quick.”

The man laughed, a sound that chilled Peter. “Bait.”

“Bait-?” He cut himself off, his spider-sense yelling at him to move. He jumped out of the way, flipping to the side as a bullet came whistling towards him. He’d barely missed it, feeling a bit more sluggish than usual. He cursed under his breath but played it off like he was unamused with the man’s attempts. “How many times have you done it and it’s actually worked?” He taunted.

“More times than you’d like to know.” The man tried shooting at him again. He had pretty good accuracy, but again, Peter was able to dodge it. Barely, but able to.

“I can see that,” he said sarcastically. He didn’t give the man time to reply, shooting out his webs to grab the man's gun. He flung it over the side of the building, and he went to go web him again, this time aiming for his arm. The masked man ducked out of the way and came running at Peter.  
A punch was thrown, the teen dodged it. Another one, he rolled out of the way. Things were looking good for him at first. He was impressed it was this easy to fight with a migraine level headache. The adrenaline helped keep his mind off it but didn’t keep him from being slower than he usually was. One punch only missed by a second. An attempt at taking his legs out caught him off guard, yet he was able to flip out of the way.

It was when he decided to flip over the Slenderman Wannabe when things really went downhill. He’d been trying to web him up; the height advantage always helped. His spidey senses alerted him a second too late that something was up. The teen felt a strong hand grab his ankle, and the next thing he knew he was being slammed into the ground.  
His chest collided with the ground and he groaned. The blow made a new wave of nausea wash over him. He was quick to pull himself up to his hands and knees, but a kick to his head sent him rolling onto his back. He didn’t try to get up this time, his head screaming and his stomach feeling like it was going to empty its contents onto the ground. Whatever the adrenaline had been pushing down had come back full force. He felt as shitty as he had without the suit on, maybe even worse. He couldn’t think or focus, everything was too much. Words were being spoken, but they sounded fuzzy. He felt a sharp pain in his arm, that similar to a needle being stuck into him, and he groaned. He didn’t pull his arm away. He couldn’t. His head hurt, which led to everything hurting.

He didn’t know how long had passed, but when he managed to bite down some of the nausea and open his eyes the man was gone. It was still light out, which meant he hadn’t been laying on the rooftop forever. He looked down at himself. There was no visible damage to his suit, so whatever sharp pain he felt wasn’t a cut. That was good. He closed his eyes again. Even with the suit filtering the light, he still felt like he was being blinded.

“Karen,” Peter mumbled out. He felt like he was screaming when in all reality his voice was just above a whisper. “Where’d he go?”

“He escaped, Peter. You’re showing signs of a concussion.”

Peter winced at the loudness of the AI, biting his lip. He managed to mumble a, “Lower the volume please?”

Karen obliged, her voice lowering enough so that Peter could listen to her without feeling like his eardrums were going to explode. “As I said before, you show signs of a concussion. I’m going to run a few tests and ask some questions.”

“ ‘M fine,” The stubborn teenager tried to get off the ground, sitting up. He immediately felt like the world was spinning. Fuck. “ ‘M not fine.” He concluded, laying back down with a grunt.

“Lay down, it’ll help the nausea. Keep your eyes closed. Deep breaths.” Karen said soothingly. He did as she said, back against the roof and eyes closed. “Do you know where we are?”  
Peter tried to think. He couldn’t. Roof. They were on a roof, that was a dead giveaway. “Uh… don’t. Don’t know. Karen, my senses are messin’ up, ‘s not a concussion.” His words were slurring a bit.

“Sensory overload is worsened with your head injury. Does it feel worse than before?”

“Got kicked in the head.” He paused, rubbing his face through his mask. “Mhm. I think.”

“You think?”

“‘S hard to focus.”

Karen stopped the line of questions, telling him that he did have a concussion and he was calling Tony to come get him. It was unsafe for him to make his way to his house by himself, especially when he needed medical care. Peter protested silently but to no avail. He didn’t want to bother Mr. Stark but his slurred begging didn’t sound convincing one bit. The begging had stopped and changed to just him incoherently rambling as the kid tried to keep his mind off the unbearable throbbing in his head.

He didn’t hear the clanking of metal against the ground since Karen lowered the audio input to the suit, but he did feel himself being lifted off the ground. Next thing he knew he had an iron pillow and was drifting off against Tony Stark’s shoulder as they flew towards the compound.


	2. Concussion

When he woke up, there were no longer the sounds of the city coming from outside his bedroom window. In fact, there wasn’t even a bedroom window. He could tell by the lack of light blinding him. Confused, Peter cracked open an eye. He wasn’t even in his own bedroom.

Panic rising, he sat up a little too fast for his liking. The dark outlines of furniture in the room swam in his vision, the dizziness catching up to him. A hand immediately went to his stomach as he found out the hard way that he was still not feeling well. He was about to try to get up before he heard the door creak open. Light flooded in from the hallway, his hands racing up to shield his eyes.

“Relax, kid. The doors closed.” The panic stopped creeping through him when he heard the person talk. He knew that voice.

“Mr. Stark?” Peter asked, cracking his eyes open yet again. A dim light was on in the room. It was a warm light, not one that felt like claws digging into his eyes. He opened them more to see Tony Stark standing inches away from his bed, arms crossed. He did not look happy.

“What. Were. You. thinking?” Tony punctuated every word, looking him right in the eyes. “You could’ve gotten killed! Peter, you have to be more careful. I saw the footage, you can’t just barge into a fight like that when you’re clearly not feeling good.”

The sound of Tony’s voice echoed in his ears. It was still loud, everything was still loud. He could feel the familiar ache start back up in the side of his head. It wasn’t overwhelming, though, something he could handle. What he could barely handle was the fact that he had trouble remembering what Tony was talking about. He could gather bits and pieces, but his memories were still fuzzy. Guilt still rushed over his face. He didn’t keep eye contact, looking at the ground. “‘M sorry.”

Tony sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. He was quiet for a second before Peter could feel the bed sink by his legs as the other sat down. “It’s fine. For now. I’ll give you the speech when you don’t look like absolute shit. How are you feeling?” He’d deliberately lowered his voice, deciding to go with a more gentle approach.

“Horrible.” The teenager admitted, running a hand through his hair.

“That’s typically a side effect of having a concussion. C’mon, lay down. Sitting up isn’t going to help, advanced healing or not.” Peter could feel Tony’s hand gently pushing at his shoulder, and he felt his head hitting the pillow.

“Does Aunt May know I’m here?” He mumbled, looking up at the other through half-lidded eyes. He was still tired, but he’d rather talk to Tony than sleep.

“I told her I had you the minute you got here. She’s worried, but I told her you’ll give her a call once you’re feeling better.” Tony was looking at him, but his eyes kept glancing at Peter’s arm as if he was trying to figure something out. Peter didn’t catch the glance, his head still working overtime to process everything Tony was saying to him.

“Where even is ‘here?’”

“You’re at the compound, and you will be until we know you’ll be okay. Basically, kid, you’re under house arrest. No more building hopping until you’re in the clear. Got it?”

The way Tony worded it made Peter suspicious. He tried to figure out what he meant by ‘until we know you’re okay’, but it hurt to think. Trying to think only made the headache he had worse. “What do you mean? How long does it take for a concussion to clear? And that’s not fair! What about school? And patrol?”

“School? No. Patrol? Absolutely not. That’s final.”

“Mr. Stark-” Peter started to pout, only to be cut off by a concerned looking Tony. He could tell the teenager was getting worked up over this, and that’s the last thing he needed. The boy needed to relax, not stress.

“I said that’s final. We can discuss it later, after you get some rest. I’ll bring you in some food, what’s that sandwich place you like-? You know what, I can figure it out. Just, no more T.V or anything with a screen, really. Friday can keep you company while I run out, and Bruce will be in here soon to check on you. Alright?”

Peter didn’t see the use in arguing. He just sighed and nodded. There was a pause before Tony gave Peter’s leg a comforting squeeze. He got off the bed and made his exit, leaving the kid to actually close his eyes. It wasn’t long before he was passed out.

______________________________________

 

“What do you mean, ‘you don’t know?’” Tony was standing in the kitchen, giving Bruce a glare.

“It’s untraceable. I’ve run the test a hundred time by now, his blood is normal, his vitals are normal, no drugs are showing up on any results. Are you sure something was being injected into him?”

“Absolutely positive.” Tony put his head in his hands, tugging at his hair. He was clearly worried.

“So the possibility of someone taking his blood to run tests is out of the question?” Bruce asked slowly. He didn’t think Tony was lying or stupid, he just knew he was worried. And sometimes when he was worried, he tended to overthink.

“Yes.” He said firmly, looking up at him. “I saw the footage. Karen records everything. It was clearly something being put into him.” Two of the most brilliant minds in the world and they couldn’t figure out something that should be so easy. He cursed under his breath, reaching for the alcohol. He paused. If Peter needed him, he didn’t want to be shitfaced. Instead, he reached for the coffee, chugging it.

“Maybe we should run an x-ray instead. If it wasn’t a liquid, maybe it’s a device?”

“I already looked to see if it was a tracer, nothing came up. We can run it again but we also have to remember the kid feels like shit. The more we do, the more worried he gets.” He took the last swig of the coffee, slamming the cup down on the table. “I think our best bet is to keep an eye on his vitals. I have some tech that can do that easily, no hospital equipment needed.”

Bruce nodded. “I’ll run some more tests on the mutated part of his DNA, double check and make sure those weren’t affected.” Tony gave him a nod, staring at the wall. Bruce was walking out when he stopped at the door, leaning on the frame. “We’re going to figure out what happened. He’s going to be okay. Right now, just worry about his concussion getting better. Be there for him. And don’t drive him crazy.” He said the last part a bit playfully, before walking out the door.

The whole night was spent with Tony watching over Peter. He’d fallen asleep, but that didn’t stop Tony from checking on him every hour. Even if Friday was already monitoring him. He’d woken him up to have him drink some water and eat the food he got him, but other than that Peter was asleep. Unlike Tony.

There was no way Tony would be getting any sleep tonight. He was too busy thinking. Thinking about the guy in the video; who he was and what he wanted. He was pissed that anyone even thought of hurting Peter. And not knowing what this guys plan was made him downright sick to his stomach. It was his job to protect the kid and he couldn’t even do this. He felt so helpless, not knowing what was going on. He just hoped he’d find out before it was too late.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i wrote this with a migraine so its half unedited and half shit. i just wanted to get it out there bc this is an important chapter to have. thank you for coming and thank you for leaving comments!! its what kind of inspired me to keep writing this!


	3. Bang

A week into being at the compound and Peter was starting to get comfortable. After a day or two of rest, he wasn’t sentenced to laying in bed anymore. He was allowed to do whatever he wanted as long as he didn’t leave or overexert himself. Even with that liberty, he generally preferred to be glued to Tony’s side. He kind of needed to be at first. With having the concussion, the first few days he’d randomly lose his balance and Tony would be right there to steady him and ask if he needed a break. If he thought Peter was overexerting himself, he’d take over and tell Peter to relax like some sort of protective father. It could be frustrating, but it was good to know Tony cared about him.

That was the first few days, though. By now he figured his concussion was pretty much gone. He did tend to heal pretty quickly, after all. He didn’t have a headache anymore. His senses were still a bit finicky, but that was on and off. Something he could definitely handle on his own. Although, he didn’t complain when he was having a hard time and noticed that the lights were dimmed or that Tony lowered his voice. Whenever his senses acted up, it generally only lasted for about half an hour and he’d be back to normal. He chalked it up to being caused by his concussion.

Other than that, he felt great. Sitting around the compound all week left him with quite a bit of pent-up energy. He’d been letting most of his energy out by talking Tony’s ear off, but when Tony wasn’t in the general vicinity he had to find other ways to get it all out. For example, right now, he was watching TV from the ceiling with half a Poptart shoved in his mouth. Technically, he wasn’t supposed to be looking at screens, but Tony wasn’t here to tell him no. Plus, an hour or two couldn’t hurt. The only thing that hurt was the fact he couldn’t find anything good to watch, no matter how many channels he flickered through.

“Friday, is there anything interesting on? At all?” He asked with a mouthful of food, the crumbs dropping from the ceiling onto the floor.

“Reruns of Wizards of Waverly Place, a new episode of How It’s Made, and there seems to be something happening on the local news if you’re interested.

He tilted his head curiously. “Like what?”

“An explosive in the New York City subway.”

Peter paused, swallowing the pastry. “Right now? Is there any footage?” The TV flicked to the news station. Playing was some shaky footage clearly taken with a phone.

The subway train was packed with people. That was easy to see despite the flickering lights in the car. Everyone was standing, worried whispering coming from around them. A deep, husky voice began to speak over the others, “Citizens of New York, I mean no harm,” the camera panned over to the source of the voice. A tall figure stood, arms crossed, but back turned towards the cameraman. “It’s simple. If he comes to save the day, you’ll live.” The man slowly turned, facing the other side of the car. It was hard to tell who he was looking at, a blank white mask covering his face, “If not? Well, I apologize but whatever takes place after that will not be my fault. I can say, though, you have roughly an hour until you're... released." There was a disgusting laugh that came from the man, before the video went black and ended.

Peter swore and jumped down from the ceiling, landing on his feet. “Friday, where’s my suit?”

“I have specific instructions not to tell you that. You’re not feeling good, Peter. If you strain yourself it could make your condition worse.”

“I feel fine!” His voice got higher with frustration. “Okay, okay. You don’t have to tell me. Just- uh, how about we play a game?”

“Does the game involve me telling you where the suit is?”

“No! No, no. Kind of. Okay, Mr. Stark said you’d entertain me, right?” He had already started looking around the room frantically. “I’m bored, so we should definitely play a game. Hot and cold. You know what it is, right? Let’s do it with my suit. That way you’re not telling me where it is.”

There was a pause before Friday sighed. “Cold.”

The next ten minutes was Peter running around the compound like a maniac, Friday telling him whether he was close or not. It may have been a bit ridiculous, but at this point he was desperate. He had a time limit. He got a series of ‘warm’, then ‘warmer.’ Eventually, he was standing at the doors to Tony’s room, Friday telling him he was ‘burning hot.’ He hesitated, not necessarily wanting to go into Mr. Starks room. It was a violation of privacy. Then again, a lot of peoples lives were at risk. He opened the doors to a clean room. He didn’t think finding it from here would be that hard, and he was right; it wasn’t hard. It was under Tony’s bed. He guessed it was just universal that all parents or parental figures sucked at hiding things.

It didn’t take him long to suit up. He was making his way out of the compound, trying not to be seen by anyone else there, when he was greeted by the familiar voice of Karen.

“Glad to see you’re feeling better, Peter.”

“Happy to see you too, Karen. We’re off to that subway bomb,” he looked around at all the trees. “I can’t really swing there, how long will it take us on foot?”

“Two to three hours, if you’re lucky. A vehicle would probably be a lot wiser.”

“I can’t drive and we don’t have the time!” He said in frustration, looking around. He couldn’t just ask anyone at the compound for a ride, chances are they knew he was grounded from hero-ing. He couldn’t drive. He only had one idea. “Karen? Do you have access to the app store?”

  
Fifteen minutes later, the black car pulled up. Peter waved at the driver, before climbing into the backseat.

“You’re the Uber, right?”

The girl just stared at him through the mirror, before actually turning around fully to look. Her jaw was dropped. He waved, feeling a bit awkward at the prolonged staring. She nodded, confirming she was the Uber. She quietly went back to the wheel, pulling out and starting to their destination. Peter felt like he needed to explain, so as she was driving he did. Luckily she seemed to understand, but she was still in a bit of shock. When they got there, he gave her a generous tip before heading to the subway station.

Police cars lined the road in front of the entrance, along with other various personnel and news reporters. He swung above them all, heading into the entrance. Once he was in, Karen guided him along the rails to the train in question. Thankfully this system didn’t have a third rail or else he would’ve been electrocuted to death by now.

It didn’t take long for the immobile vehicle to come into view. He crouched next to it, trying to figure out his best plan of action. He had Karen scan for an explosive, hoping it was all just a bluff. When the scan came back positive, he groaned in frustration. He had to get the people out of the train before he did anything else. That was the first priority. Then he’d go against the man.

Standing, he looked at the first car. He jumped up from the rails onto the ledge next to the train and pried open the doors on the side. He didn’t have time to answer questions from the commuters, just telling them to follow the ledge down until they reached the station. Then he repeated the process with all the separate passenger cars. It didn’t take long for them to evacuate the train. Now all he had to do was face this asshole and get the hell out of dodge.

He walked along the ledge, peering into the different cars. All were empty except one. From the window, he could see the man. Sitting in one of the seats, feet kicked up, hands behind his head. He could hear through the window that the man was whistling casually. Peter senses were giving him a dull warning, not enough to deter him from going in.

He mulled over the thought of letting the bomb to explode once all the people were out. That’d cause structural damage to the system, though, which could result in a total collapse. He’d have to face him.

  
He went for a sneak type of maneuver. He was expected, but he wanted to at least try to get the upper hand. So quietly, he made his way over. He shot webbing at his feet, effectively sticking him to the seat. The man didn’t seem alarmed, just looking over his shoulder. He couldn’t tell if he was grinning or not because of the mask, but he assumed he was. It showed in his voice.

“Spider-man! I was worried I knocked you out of commission completely after that little scuffle we had.” He didn’t like the calmness in his voice.

Peter cautiously looked him up and down. “That’s a pretty big ego for someone who doesn’t like to show his face.”

“Oh, you’ll be seeing my face soon enough.”

“Yeah, when you’re on trial.” Peter scoffed, stepping closer. Not too close, though. He wasn’t at a proper angle to web his arms down. That didn’t seem to be an issue though, because the man wasn’t fighting. At all. He just sat there. His spider sense was still dull, so despite the red flags this man was giving off he decided to continue. “Why aren’t you fighting?”

“I don’t need to fight if I’ve already won.” He could hear the smirk in the other’s voice.

Confusion rushed over him, taking a small step back. “What-?” He started, but his spider senses started to scream to get the hell out of dodge. They were way too late. As soon as they came, the pain came, too. White hot pain engulfed his entire body. He was sure he was screaming. His knees hit the ground first, then his face. Before he even knew it, blackness filled his vision as he passed out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeets this into existence  
> idk if you like it let me know because im trying my man im trying


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so i just wanted to let y'all know that im still here!! next chapter is gonna be peter parker getting his shit fucked up so i mean here have this tony sadness  
> its short but just a little nudge

The breaking news was on every single channel. Channel 4, CNN, Fox. Every. Fucking. Channel. He’d watched the story so many times he could’ve recited it thirteen times over. He’d watched it so much, yet he didn’t dare change the channel. It was still playing. This time, it was in the background as Tony sat in his lab, picking up the pieces of the broken glass that  _ had _ been full of alcohol before he decided it’d look better in a million pieces on the floor. 

 

_ “Spider-man has gone missing after confronting a terrorist threat in New York, _ ”

 

It’d been a day. A day since he’d seen the teen, smiling and rambling about the features he’d think would be cool to add to the latest Stark Tech. A day since he left for a meeting. A day since they’d released the black and white subway footage of the costume-clad hero crumpling to the ground. Being slung over a strangers shoulder, then brought out of view of the camera.

 

_ “The only evidence the perpetrator has left behind is an article of clothing, specifically a size elven boot with no brand name. Currently there are no leads on who it may belong to, _ ”

 

He’d told May the news. Happy had offered to, but he refused. This was something he had to tell her himself, in person. Part of him had wished that he took Happy up on his offer, his heart aching at the look of betrayal that crossed May’s face. He’d promised. He’d promised that Peter was safe with him. He should’ve been, but the teen  _ had _ to-- no. He couldn’t blame this on Peter. It was his fault for not keeping a closer eye on him, knowing how he is. The rest of that hour was spent comforting May, reassuring her that he was going to  _ make sure _ that Peter was found safely.

 

“ _ Tony Stark and other heroes in the New York area have given a statement that they will dedicate their full time to trying to locate the missing hero,” _

 

He couldn’t stay for long, he had to get to work on trying to find Peter. He asked a few people for help; Bruce, Thor, Natasha, anyone he could really. He almost asked Steve, but things were still too tense between the two. It was strange seeing Tony ask for help, it wasn’t really something he did often. He didn’t want people to think he was weak, even though he obviously wasn’t. He also didn’t want people to think he was overly worried when he absolutely was. He’d spent the first night flying around New York City for hours, trying to see if he could pick up a signal from Peter’s suit. He couldn’t rely on the tracker, since Peter had a bad habit of disabling it, so he’d have to rely on a possible stray signal it may send out. 

 

He didn’t sleep that night. Despite being exhausted, he probably wasn’t going to sleep this night either. He’d been drinking to try and drown out the “worst-case scenarios” floating around in his head but all he was met with was more frustration. Hence the glass on the ground, that was now digging into his palm as he picked it up off the ground. 

 

“You know you’re bleeding.” He heard Natasha say, looking up to see her leaning on the door frame. 

“I’m aware.” He muttered, tossing the glass into the trash. He grabbed a cleanish rag, wiping the blood off. The sting was welcomed, giving him something else to focus on. There was a pause, Natasha taking in his appearance. The bags under his eyes, his messed up hair, a shirt that wasn’t even buttoned properly.

 

“I don’t know what part of you thinks not taking care of yourself is going to do anything, but it’s not. We need Tony Stark, not someone who’s going to drink and wallow in his own self pity.” 

 

“I’m not wallowing in my own self pity, and I am taking care of myself.” He snapped, turning to face her. 

 

“That’s exactly why you’re picking up glass with your bare hands instead of using the advanced roomba you have stuffed in the corner, right? Or why you haven’t slept in twenty four hours? Or why this is the second bottle of whiskey that’s disappeared from the fridge?” She gestured to the whiskey, a hand on her hip. 

 

“So what? I can’t be stressed? Do you want me to be perfectly happy? Skip through the fucking flowers while the kid, keyword,  _ kid _ could be fucking bleeding out in a warehouse?” He glared at her, pressing the cloth into his hands harder. “I have a teenagers life on my hands right now, it’s on  _ me _ to find him.” 

 

“It’s on all of us to find him. And we can’t find him when one of the greatest minds we have can barely clean up a broken glass without shredding up his hand.” She turned, huffing. “It’s not my job to take care of you, but you need to have a clear head. This? Isn’t going to get us anywhere. Take care of yourself. If not for us, do it for Peter.”

 

Instead of lashing out at her, he let her leave. She was right, he needed to get his shit together. For Peter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you have a request just leave a comment


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i had a super fucking hard time writing this so im sorry if anything seems stiff!! im still trying to figure out things to happen while hes with the mystery man so if you have any requests comment them bellow :^)

Everything happened fast. Too fast. He didn’t see it coming. There was pain, a lot of it, then blackness. He didn’t even have time to process what was happening before it hit him.

Which is why, when the teen woke up, he was extremely confused. He knew he was sitting up; his neck hurt. It was stiff from lolling forward while he was unconscious. That wasn’t the only thing that hurt; his whole body was sore. It felt like he ran a marathon while being electrocuted. He wasn’t electrocuted very often, but he assumed that’s what the feeling was; the weird tingly-weak feeling running through his arms and legs.

He pulled his head up, stretching his neck. He tried to do the same with his arms only to figure out they wouldn’t move. His eyes snapped open, quickly adjusting to the darkness of the room. The first thing he noticed was the rope that was holding his wrist to the uncomfortable chair. He furrowed his brows, a dulled panic coming to life in his stomach. He tested out the strength of the rope, relieved to find out it wasn’t the strongest. He easily should’ve been able to break it, but when he tugged, it didn’t snap right away. A few threads broke, but ultimately, he was still tied to the damn chair.

The panic grew a bit more as he started to realize his strength wasn’t really fully there. It was there, obviously, if it wasn’t he wouldn’t have been able to even start to break the rope. Even though his strength was there, it was dulled. Just like his panic. It didn’t take a genius to figure out whoever brought him here-- most likely the mask guy. -- drugged him. And with his system burning through drugs faster than usual (it sucked when he had a headache, he’d end up wasting half the bottle of Advil to get rid of it), he was starting to get his strength back.

At least the jackass didn’t take that into account. It took him a few tries, but eventually, he was able to snap the rope. It took another minute or two to untangle himself from the rope completely, but once he did he was on his feet and out of that shitty chair.

Bad idea. The minute his feet touched the ground, his entire world was spinning. Most likely due to the drugs- whatever it was, he thought he was about to be a Spider-Man sized Jenga set and smash his face on the ground. He didn’t, though, he was able to reach his hand over to the wall to steady himself. The support of the wall gave him a minute to gather his thoughts and actually figure out a plan.

“Karen, scan the building for people.” He mumbled, looking around. Everything was dark, but his vision allowed him to see the main details of the room. It felt like a basement; concrete brick walls, a cold concrete floor. It was huge, though. Probably not a basement you find in your everyday home.

For the most part, the room was empty, There was one old looking machine half-covered in a white sheet halfway across the room, but other than that, nada. There was a set of stairs, one that probably leads to the exit. He wanted to know he was in the clear before he got the fuck out of here. He waited for the AI to respond, but all he got was silence.  
“Karen?” He asked again. More silence in return. It was like someone flicked the ‘off’ switch on his suit. Curious, he tried using his webs. Those weren’t working, either. He knew he should’ve started carrying his old shooters. Looked like he was on his own. He took a deep breath, listening. His hearing was dulled too, he assumed, but he couldn’t hear anything anyways. That was a good sign. Ass-Mask probably wasn’t expecting him to wake up any time soon.

A few more seconds of standing there in the silence and he figured he was in the clear. He made his way to the stairs by crawling, too unsteady to walk his way there. There was no door at the top of the stairs, just an archway. Old brick lined the walls at the top of stairs. It gave off an old factory vibe. Great.

At the top of the stairs, he was back on his feet. A bit wobbly, but able to hold himself up. Glancing around, he could tell there was no one there. It was another big, empty room. This room had old windows, large rectangles that lined the walls. Moonlight streaming through them.

How long have I been here? He asked himself, cautiously making his way towards the window. He stumbled every few seconds. It frustrated him, barely being able to walk. He was Spider-Man for god's sake, and he couldn’t even go in a straight line.

Focus. Just focus on getting out of here, he told himself, eyes locked on the window. He could break through, or find a way to open it. He didn’t want to risk going further into the factory, in case someone was mulling around waiting for him. If he wanted to leave, he had to do it now, and quick. He was fiddling with the frame when he heard the footsteps. Peter’s heart skipped a beat when he realized they were coming from right behind him.

He couldn’t fight; not right now, not when he was like this. He’d learned his listen the last two times he fucked up, he knew he needed time to get his shit together. He didn’t have time, though.

He reacted fast, but he wasn’t fast enough. He was able to turn, but not in time to land a punch. A strong arm was placed up against his throat, pushing him up against the window. He let out a choked sound, trying to kick his attacker away. Even without his full strength, the kick was powerful enough to have the man stumble backwards as Peter coughed from the pressure that was on his throat.

Peter got a good look at him. It was the same guy as before, except, no mask on. The only thing indicating it was him was the fact he was wearing the same exact outfit on the subway. He didn’t really know how to describe him without the mask; long hair, strong nose, thick eyebrows. He was like an ugly, square-faced Jason Momoa.

“Has anyone ever told you that you look like that dude who plays Aquaman? But uglier?”

Apparently, calling your kidnapper Aquaman was not a good idea. As soon as the words came out of the teen's mouth, he was charged at again. One of his best defensive tactics was always flipping out of the way, but with whatever he was drugged up with affecting his reaction time and balance, that was out of the question. Instead, he settled for landing a punch into the other’s shoulder, and a knee to the groin. “That looked like it hurt.” He said with a smirk, watching him double over in pain.

As his luck usually had it, it didn’t deter the attacker, just infuriating him more. There were two strong arms shoving him into the window with force, glass shattering and falling to the ground around them. Peter winced as he felt some of it definitely cut into his back. Before he could land another punch, there was a sharp pain in his side. He choked out a cry of pain, looking down. There was the man's cut up hand, covered in blood, as it held a huge shard of glass that was firmly planted into Peter’s abdomen. The man twisted the glass, another wave of pain shooting through Peter.

Peter didn’t want to stop fighting, but he was at a serious disadvantage here. He was bleeding, weak, and could barely walk down a hall. For all he knew, the man could’ve just hit an artery or another organ. The man pulled the glass out of Peter, only to put it at his throat. Effectively making the bleeding worse. There was a crazy look in his eyes, a sinister one. His mouth started to curl upwards at the corners, a sick resemblance of a smile.

“Move one fucking inch and I’ll slit your fucking throat.” He growled.

“You would’ve killed me by now if you didn’t need me alive.” Peter forced out, barely keeping his voice from shaking. It hurt. He reached a free hand to put pressure on his wound, trying to stop some of the bleeding.

“You’re right.” The man was still smiling. “It would be a shame, though, if I figured out who you were.” His voice wasn’t as harsh of a growl, the man keeping the glass to his throat as his other hand reached up to the edges of the mask. “I was going to do it before, take your mask off. Just so I could see the fear in your eyes. But if you insist on being a little asshole, I can always find the people you love. Expose it to the world. What if your enemies found out about your family, hm?”

His threat hung in the air as Peter swallowed thickly. He closed his eyes as he felt the mask being lifted off his face, the cold air of the room hitting his face. The man raised his brows, shocked by the pale face that was revealed from the mask.

“You’re just a kid.” He cooed mockingly. “Pretending to be something you’re not. Pathetic.”

Peter opened his eyes to glare at him, not saying anything. The threat of possibly bringing harm to his Aunt keeping him from running his mouth. He essentially had to bite his tongue.

“Nothing smart to say now, I see?”

“Screw you,” Peter said through clenched teeth.

The man grabbed Peter from the front of the suit and threw him onto the ground. The pain from his abdomen went all the way up his body, leaving him to cry out in pain. It hurt. It felt like it was on fire. His hand, which was covered in blood by now, was shaking as he tried to hold it against the wound.

“You’re going to fucking learn.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im still trying to figure out things to happen while hes with the mystery man so if you have any requests comment them bellow :^)


End file.
